Silver Apple
by Mocha MintCocoa
Summary: After losing a bet, Gilbert is forced to take the main role of the Christmas play. It's just then he knows that he will be playing with his frenemy and secret crush, Elizabeta. -PruHun, Gakuen!AU.


**A/N:** ...I hate LJ. That stupid site keeps saying that it failed to post my text, and it even didn't allow me to upload userpics. Anyone knows the cure for it? :(

...anyway, honestly, the idea came from a review I gave on 'The Italian and the Frog' by Nezumi's Cheese (I swore, I was typing that review while sitting on the toilet out of the blue), and then a trigger by my friend uber-nacht on dA by his... Male!Hungary-Fem!Prussia picture... made me explode one day and went to type this. So... although I planned this to be a 2011 Christmas fic along with the USUK counterpart, and because I don't want to wait until next Christmas to post this, here I go :D

**Warning!** Crossdressing. And uh... OOC!Gilbert...? *facepalm*

Oh, and Sey is Seychelles. I am not creative after all... ^^;

Hetalia belongs to Himaruya Hidekaz and title is inspired by Touhou's 'Bad Apple!'.

* * *

Silver Apple

.

悲しむならば、悲しむならば、私の心、白く変われる？  
_If I grieve, if I grieve, will my heart turn __white__?_

* * *

"...I hate you two," was all Gilbert had to say to his two best 'friends', who actually had turned into foes. Francis was still smiling eerily, with Antonio on his side and carrying a bundle of papers.

"A bet's a bet, Gilly, don't you dare running away from your punishment!" Francis cackled loudly, "After all, who gave you the idea of Alfred being head over heels for Sey? He's obviously in love with our snarky, stiff school president!"

"I admit it was so sweet, for Arthur to blush so red like my tomato when Alfred actually confessed to him!" Antonio added, his cheerful tone only added Gilbert's misery right now. "And thank God the situation would calm down a bit now Arthur had a boyfriend."

Gilbert groaned. "Okay, so that one's settled, now how about awesome me?" he asked reluctantly. "Come on, let's get over with this punishment already. As long as it doesn't involve West."

It all started on a stupid bet—Francis had challenged him to determine what or who was bugging their school star athlete, Alfred F. Jones. The teachers started to worry about him; he daydreamt during classes, got accidents here and there, and his grades were dropping so low it was nearly impossible for him to pass. Francis knew what the cause was; love. But they had no idea who Alfred was falling for, so they decided to investigate and finally match-make whoever it was. After all, they weren't called the Bad Touch Trio for nothing; it was _their_ job to stick their noses on everything, right?

The idea of bet came from Antonio, the most unexpected one. The trio then agreed that whoever lost had to obey the other's punishment, no matter how embarrassing it was. At first, Gilbert thought that it would be a good idea if he got his two friends into some sort of gag punishment—maybe he could make Antonio to kiss Lovino, the fiery, freshman Italian Antonio had been chasing for over a year; and making Francis try to grope Ivan, the fearsome upperclassman seemed like a very good idea.

However, he did _not_ expect to be the losing party. How the hell could Antonio and Francis have the same opinion after all? No one in the world would think that Alfred would be falling for Arthur, their school president, whom Gilbert nominated as the most-not-awesome-person from the most-not-awesome people. He snapped at every person, disciplined anyone, anything he came across, and worst of all, his big, bushy eyebrows was the most unattractive, turn-off trait of the British.

Aside of it, Gilbert chose not to remember his defeat anymore and just received his punishment like a man he was.

He watched carefully as the Frenchman gave him a tell-tale smirk, Antonio unrolling the bundle of paper he was holding, peeling a pretty thick amount and threw it to the silver-haired teen. "This is your punishment, Gilly. We look forward for your performance!" the Spanish grinned.

Gilbert looked down at the paper Antonio just tossed him. On the first page, at the very top, it said '_Christmas Theatre Performance'_ with the red printed font seemed like mocking him. Below it, several spaces away, typed with extra-large font was '_Role: Snow White'_.

He nearly crashed from his seat in shock. "...what the _fuck_ is this bundle?" Gilbert looked up to see his friends snickering at his reaction. He took a quick read, skimming through the pages. "...a 'Snow White'...dialogue?"

Gilbert was sure that his look would probably send Francis and Antonio rolling on the floor laughing before he changed it into a glare. He wouldn't let himself be humiliated like this—the Christmas Performance was held along with the Christmas Party, and everyone in Hetalia High would gather and – and definitely _see_ the performance!

Francis let out a delighted snort. "Of course it is. It's not very hard, non? You just have to act like a perfect princess, run from the hunter, and then sleep then be kissed by the Prince~!" he said, making disgusting kissing sound towards Antonio.

The Spanish chuckled. "I'll be the hunter, though. The seven dwarfs' casts should be out soon, but the Prince had been decided!" he said enthusiastically. "Won't you see who's going to kiss you later, Gilly?"

Gilbert sighed, but complied nonetheless. The second page was all a long definition of the casts (or mostly possible casts). He couldn't resist rolling his eyes seeing _Snow White: _printed on the first line, with _Gilbert Beilschmidt_ written in block letters, unmistakably Kiku's handwriting, the secretary of school student council.

_Prince_ was next with the name _Alfred F Jones_ written beside it, but it was crossed with one line. Gilbert looked up at Francis to ask for explanation.

"Because of the declaration, Kiku said that it wasn't appropriate to let Alfred plays as the prince anymore," Francis said, still grinning, "Instead they said they have special request to play along later, not until the day of performance."

"So who's gonna play the Prince?"

Francis raised one eyebrow. "You haven't finished reading it, moron. Go on."

Huffing in irritation, Gilbert continued to read the name beside Alfred's. _E—_

He paused. He looked to Francis and Antonio's direction, before turning his gaze to the paper again.

"Elizabeta Héderváry," the German teen read aloud. "Elizabeta."

Francis just chuckled. "Won't you be happy that your Prince is actually your cru—"

The Frenchman's sentence was cut by a slap of paper towards his face. The blonde cried, clutching his cheek dramatically as he let out a string of curses in French. Gilbert then turned to Antonio, demanding for an explanation. The brunette just held his hands up.

"Don't ask me, I don't know anything, I swear!" Antonio said, "I think it was Elizabeta herself who volunteered, so don't blame me, amigo." He let out a sheepish smile. "So... why don't we go to the theatre? The practice will start soon."

Oh, Gilbert would be more than happy if he was allowed to chuck his awesome shoe into Antonio's grinning face.

.

"No, no, Gilbert! You see... Can you, like, put more expression? Like, fearful, sad expression?"

Gilbert scowled deeply towards Feliks, the Polish coordinator. "I already told you! How could my expression be 'fearful' if the Queen herself isn't _scary_?" he pointed at Sey, who grinned sheepishly and toyed with her pigtails guiltily.

"Don't be so tense, _amigo_," Antonio cheered him from the side, "I'm sure you can do it!"

The silver-haired teen gave his Spanish friend a dirty look before turning to Feliks. "Maybe you can give the awesome me an example of 'fearful, sad expression' you're talking about," he frowned deeply, clutching on his text so hard the papers were crinkled. "Don't just order people to do things! You don't know how hard it is to make such expression!"

Feliks folded his arms and lifted his chin. "Like, how you should be acting?" he coughed a few times, before stretching his right arm forward, left arm placed in front of his chest as he cried, "Oh, please, how could this happen to me?" with such high-pitched voice it's almost ridiculous to Gilbert's ears. He turned to Sey, wearing the most pitiful expression a man could ever make. "Please, Your Highness, let me play in the woods, please?"

Sey was taken aback before finally reacting, playing her role as the Evil Queen. "...Fine," she said, her tone low and somehow, a dark aura surrounding her body, "But I'll assign someone to accompany you. The woods is not that safe, you know?" She waved her low pigtail backwards, a cruel grin forming on her beautiful, tanned face. And as suddenly as it started, her eyes lit up with excitement and her usual, cheerful tone was back. "How was it? Did I do a good job?"

Everybody except Feliks—who slapped her back gently and grinning as he praised the African girl—was dead silent. Eventually Antonio let out a nervous chuckle, breaking the silence.

"That's...that's a very impressive, Sey," he grinned widely, but it seemed almost like an assurance to himself that Sey didn't actually bite or curse people like Arthur did.

Gilbert bit his lower lip. If today was just a practice—and even Sey had scared the casts outta hell like this—maybe later the audiences would faint in terror when they saw her playing on the stage.

"Okay, so Gilly-boy, can you do it?" Feliks put both of his hands on his waist, scrunching his eyebrows together. "We're going to, like, practice this over and over again until, like, you have totally gotten the right expression."

"Wait... I'm going to _show_ that thousands of times?" Gilbert's mouth hung open in mild shock, while the corner of his eyes caught the figures of Antonio and Francis giggling like silly schoolgirls for his misery. Dammit, and why didn't Francis take part on this stupid play either?

Feliks nodded in confidence, turning away and walked on the back stage. "The prince is still pretty busy helping Kiku for the stage though, so maybe _she_, like, won't be practicing until at least two or three days later, so actually you have, like, plenty of time to make yourself used to this role."

"Wait a minute! And how come do I have to repeat it over and _over_ again?"

Feliks turned his head towards Gilbert, mouth turned into a frown and eyebrows creased in annoyance. "I'm sure Elizabeta will do, like, a better job at acting, so stop complaining at once and practice with your queen!"

"She is _not_ my queen!" Gilbert protested, "I'm too awesome to even have a queen like her!"

Feliks raised an eyebrow. "What, man, you wanted to practice with, like, your _prince_, maybe?"

He gave the gaping German teen a playful smirk as the whole theatre shook with laughter ringing from the casts after hearing the (not even hilarious) joke. Sey tried to muffle her giggle with her palms, but even failed more miserably as the African girl glanced at Gilbert's expression. Somewhere in the theatre, someone cried, 'I'm going to go fetch Elizabeta!' and he was quickly stopped by Gilbert's scary face.

"Fetch her," Gilbert growled, low and menacing, "and let's see if this theatre will survive tomorrow."

.

Elizabeta didn't appear for practice until a week before the performance, and it was just grand that she appeared when Feliks was about to force that stupid, frilly and so-very-not-awesome dress for Gilbert to try on.

"Like, c'mon, Gilbert! I'm willing to bet that it's, like, so beautiful on you!" Feliks was still trying to convince the fuming German teen to wear the dress.

"Fucking hell I will! Stop prying on me and—what the hell, release me, Francis!" Gilbert made a very ugly face at his French friend-turned foe currently holding him tight from behind. He also spotted Antonio not far from the vanity holding a wig with the colour as silver as his own, decorated with a red bow on top. The wig itself was long and flowing—Gilbert thought that it nearly reached Antonio's goddamn _calves_—and through the length, small amounts of the fake hair had been tied neatly with smaller bows identical to the bow on top, making two small fringes at the back of it*.

"Non, mon ami! You shouldn't ruin the performance with your boldness. Now get him!" Francis smirked at Feliks and Antonio as Elizabeta peeked inside the changing room.

"What's happening here? The practice will start soon—" Elizabeta's voice was cut by the sight of the red gown held by Feliks, "—oh, I see that gown is being used!" she shrieked in utter happiness. "Who's going to wear it? Antonio? Francis?" she beamed.

"Oh, um... It's Gilbert who'll wear it. He's the... _princess_, remember?" Antonio informed her with a wide smile as the other three still struggled, one against two. "The costumes just come this morning and Kiku said that we should try them on in case they didn't fit or damaged or something."

When they turned to face the three again, finally (for god knew how), the dress had fitted snugly on Gilbert's tall and slim body, and the German teen never stopped complaining as his expression turned sour.

Elizabeta burst into a loud laugh after seeing him like that. "Oh—Oh my _god_! Gil, you should see yourself in the mirror! You're _beautiful_!" she continued laughing, bending over as she held her cramped stomach with Antonio grinning madly beside her, obviously trying to keep his cool demeanour for the sake of his head. Gilbert's face immediately turned into an uglier scowl than before when he spotted Elizabeta laughing at him.

"Shut up, bitch," he retorted, still struggling against Francis, who still refused to let go off him. Apparently Antonio gave the long wig to Feliks, who was grinning in glee as he put the last piece of the costume on Gilbert. The wig fitted snugly and it fell beautifully as if it was not fake—only Feliks would have such knowledge how to get those things—and the Polish teen gave a last look before stepping backwards twice and gave Francis the sign to release the German. Surprisingly, Gilbert didn't try to rip them off instantly—maybe he was just too tired to do so.

"Oh," Elizabeta gasped in surprise. To be honest, Gilbert really looked like the real Snow White—with the pale, white skin, blood red dress, and long, flowing hair with bows adorning on top—one word to describe it all: beautiful. The others seemed to share her thought as well, considering no one had already thrown mocking insults or even snickering at the sight of the German teen cross-dressing.

(Except for the fact that the whole time they were gaping at him, the German teen still refused to take that ugly frown off his face—it was really a destruction to the wholesome image.)

"Well?" Gilbert decided to snap the silence and folded his hands in front of his chest, clearly looking irritated. "If you guys have all finished staring at the awesome me, I'm going to go and change back." Without waiting for reply, he entered one of the changing rooms that were provided behind the stage, slamming the door.

The others kept silent for a while before Francis whistled. "Dammit, if I wasn't his friend from when we still used diapers, I'll definitely date him. He's totally hot." Antonio nodded in agreement.

Feliks furrowed his eyebrows as he tossed his hair backwards. "Well, I still need to work on the costume. Those breasts need more work, and I, like, have to add corset to it. Ah, hope that Gilbert, like, totally wouldn't mind!" he turned and walked outside still looking so thoughtful.

Elizabeta, however, was still staring at where Gilbert had disappeared into before. She still just couldn't believe that the upper-class man that had been mocking her for the last two years, sharing the hate-love relationship—would be that _beautiful_. Truthfully, she had been having a crush on him, but as the silver-haired German always seemed to hate her, she tried not to push the issue further.

She shrugged lightly, deciding to leave him alone for a while when Feliks called her to try for her costume.

.

Gilbert got out from the dressing room with heavy heart, already changed into his usual school uniform. He just couldn't believe that—that he just had to be seen with that dress by others—let alone Elizabeta herself! Hadn't he humiliated himself enough when he agreed to play for the role; and now, crossdressing for it?

He sighed and entered the stage, feeling that he at least should say goodbye to Francis and Antonio before returning to the dorm and mourn for the rest of the day, but his steps stopped as soon as he heard someone reciting one scene in the play.

Gilbert took a peek from behind the curtain—and his red eyes widened.

Elizabeta had tied her waist-length hair sideway, and somehow—maybe Feliks had done his magic once more—it ended up far shorter than it should be, making Elizabeta looked more like a Duke. She had changed her uniform as well, and instead of the boring, red plaid skirt and slightly oversized sweater that usually adorned her slim figure, she was now wearing a regal suit that was more matching for a high class Master—high collars and ruffles similar to the one Roderich Edelstein's, the school's musician always wore (which Gilbert always made fun of)—and now it looked so perfect on Elizabeta. It looked like she was a real dude.

And she even wasn't born with a dick like him.

"'_Oh, my dear Lord, how could I find my princess?'_" She was now shrieking in a very manly way, her voice a tone deeper than usual. "_'I heard that she was sleeping in the depth of the thorn forest created by the Evil Queen; how am I supposed to save her?'_"

When the line ended, everyone who had been watching Elizabeta practice clapped in appreciation. She even received some playful whistle from the backstage and the prop guys, which she dismissed easily with a half-hearted glare. Elizabeta turned just in time to find Gilbert standing behind the curtains.

"Hi, Gilly!" she greeted cheerfully, and Gilbert had to force himself not to droll at the sight of his crush smiling that _handsome_ smile to him. She stopped in front of him, and dropped into one knee, startling the silver-haired German and piquing the interest of some people around. "Good morning, my princess," Elizabeta changed into her stage voice, taking Gilbert's right hand to hers and kissed it lightly. She looked up to see his face after that, whispering, "Having a good night sleep yesterday?"

And Gilbert did the most not awesome thing he could ever think of; he fled from the stage.

"It's a good thing actually, _mon ami,_" Francis, who had been observing those two since Gilbert showed from the backstage, whispered to Antonio, "that he didn't suddenly drop onto his knees and nosebleed everywhere. Or he could just faint from happiness."

Antonio shrugged and chuckled with delight. "The performance is still in five days. We have a lot of time to match make them. After all, they have to kiss in the end, and we just haven't come to the _best_ part," he grinned.

Francis instantly agreed with him.

.

The humiliation.

First the dress. Then came the fact that Elizabeta could actually look more manly than anyone did (yes, included his friends-turned-traitors). And the last... was the fact that he actually fled because she _kissed _his_ damned __**hand!**_

Francis and Antonio would definitely pay for this after the Christmas play. Yes, he was going to make them pay. Another prank about their respective crushes should be fine enough to give them some lessons—

There was a knock suddenly on his door, making Gilbert startled. He furrowed his eyebrows—he was roommate with Antonio, and even if Gilbert locked the door, he always brought his spare key with him. Francis never knocked; he just barged any time he felt like buggering Gilbert, so it couldn't be those two.

Gilbert lazily got up from his bed towards the door when anyone behind the door knocked once more. "Yeah, yeah... Wait a moment," he muttered, unlocking the latch and opened the door... only to tumble back in surprise when he saw who was behind it. "He...Héderváry?"

Elizabeta frowned. "Since when you became so polite?"

"Why you're here? This is the boys' dormitory!" Gilbert asked back, ignoring Elizabeta's question. "And why do you know where I live, jeez?"

"Antonio told me," she shrugged nonchalantly, as if it was an unimportant matter. "So, may I come in?"

"Of course not!" Gilbert blurted instantly. "Why you're here, 'Liza?"

"Well..." she hesitated for a while. "I just came to say sorry."

"...huh?"

"I mean no harm earlier when I kissed your hand. It was just a part of the act," she said, and for the first time, Gilbert saw that the girl really looked guilty. "I didn't mean to embarrass you or something like that."

Gilbert gaped.

When he didn't respond, Elizabeta just frowned deeper. "So, my business here is finished. I'm going back—whoa?" she half-shrieked in surprise when Gilbert pulled her jacket's sleeve so hard she nearly stumbled and kissed her on lips. It was just a short kiss, merely touching their lips together, but when they parted, it sent Gilbert's heart off from his chest.

Elizabeta was clearly still recovering from what was happening, so Gilbert decided to take over. "Um, so your business is finished with the awesome me," he gave a nervous laugh. "So... Aren't you going to get back?"

"...so it's true, huh..."

Gilbert looked up, surprised.

"I thought that Francis was only kidding when he say you _like_ me," Elizabeta tilted her head. "Well, I guess I'm mistaken. So your pranks on me all this time were because... you like me?"

The German teen could feel his cheeks heat up. Again, another reason to make Francis pay; how dare he let his secret slipped out just like that—! "Shut up! What, it's not awesome at all, Elizabeta, to make assumption like that—"

"You would still deny me after that?" she gave Gilbert a sharp glare. "Because, I'll make you take responsibility for earlier... kiss."

Gilbert gulped. Elizabeta never played around with her threats, and if it was 'threat', that it meant 'Elizabeta's Super Frying Pan Smash', which Gilbert had experience with for several times, and hell it was extremely painful. The Hungarian girl was definitely giving all her might when she swung her frying pan. "Oh, fine, because I'm awesome, I'm going to say," he said, taking a huge breath and looked at Elizabeta with determination on his ruby eyes. "I like you, Elizabeta Héderváry. Although I always play pranks on you, or call you names. And it's because lately you get to close with Roderich," he scowled, but the blush didn't fade. "Happy now?"

"Of course not," Elizabeta was now grinning happily despite her answer. "Don't you expect an answer from that?"

"I don't... need one," Gilbert tried to avert his gaze to anywhere else but Elizabeta.

"Oh, Gilly, you're just too cute!" Elizabeta shrieked happily, circling both of her hands around Gilbert's shoulders and bent him down to kiss him. "Let's do our best in the play later, okay?" she grinned.

Gilbert resisted the urge to just grin stupidly like a love-struck teenager (because ironically, he _was_ a love-struck teenager indeed) and hugged Elizabeta back. It was really good to know that your long-time crush was returning your feelings back, don't you think?

Meanwhile, from the corner of the hallway, Francis and Antonio were peeking out from the wall, the Spanish teen holding a camera. "Do you think these were enough to bribe Gilbert to treat us?" he asked, showing Francis the pictures he just took in his camera.

"Ohonhon, of course, _mon ami_," Francis licked his lips. "Ludwig might be delighted as well to see his _frère_ happy, don't you think so?"

* * *

* The image of the silver wig was built from _Fujiwara no Mokou_, _Touhou Eiyashiou_'s extra boss. Here; touhou. wikia[dot]com /wiki/ Fujiwara_no_Mokou (remove the spaces). It was said that she had 'light violet hair', but I just take it as her hair shades. In the image, it seems that her hair is white/silver, right?


End file.
